Some shows break new ground by breaking the mold, and then gradually adapt to the expectations around them, even losing their original edge in the process. Then there is something like the Sopranos, a very strange creation. It didn’t invent great television, but its complex serialized storytelling and offbeat central figure pushed the medium forward. Even as the series faced its finale, creator David Chase refused to settle into complacency, inviting the audience to learn to live with uncertainty—for a long time, or perhaps forever.
When people discuss the episode Made in America, aired June 10, 2007, written and directed by Chase, many tend to skip the first fifty-two minutes and focus on the last four and a half minutes. The Sopranos’ family gathered at Holsten’s restaurant to be precise. The patriarch, Tony, played by James Gandolfini, arrives first. A small jukebox on his desk begins to play the Journey classic Don’t Stop Believin’ as his wife Carmela enters through the door. Daughters Meadow is shown parking, and his son A.J. follows closely behind, while another intriguing man watches from the bar. This character moves into the bathroom as others enter the facility. Every detail feels charged with tension, and Meadow finally appears. A faint ding from the door rings out, and Tony looks up before the screen cuts to black.
black seven long seconds pass in silence before the credits roll. The black-on-black moment was intended to linger until HBO’s logo appeared, but guild rules prevented Chase from pushing the timing that far. Viewers are left stunned and many immediately call their cable providers to ask what happened on HBO.
different visions
Not only at the moment of broadcast but also in the years that followed, the debate continued in heated fashion. Did Chase insult his audience, or did he trust the viewers to catch signals without any obvious explanation? Were there clues to interpret, or was the ending truly open-ended? The central question remained: did Tony die, or did he survive?
For those who believed the signs existed, the conversation tracked a different path. Between Tony and his brother-in-law Robert, there were discussions about the dangers of being exposed as a gangster, and the line You probably won’t even hear it when it happens, right? stood out as a chilling remark. The conversation recalled from the finale of Blue Comet, the episode just before Made in America, intensified the discussion.
For viewers who trusted that Tony Soprano would survive for now, the ending meant a perpetual state of vigilance. The fateful seven seconds became a canvas for speculation, not a definitive statement about death.
Versions of Chase
In an interview with The Star-Ledger soon after the finale aired, Chase stated that he was not interested in explaining, defending, reinterpreting, or adding to what was already out there. He held this position for many years. The conversation shifted in early 2019 when critics Alan Sepinwall and Matt Zoller Seitz discussed the ending in their book The Sopranos Sessions, describing the moment as a death scene that was later clarified, suggesting another road scene was left on the cutting room floor rather than the immediate ending itself.
November 2021 brought another notable turn during a discussion with The Hollywood Reporter. Scott Feinberg described a scenario in which Tony briefly drives from New Jersey to New York, returning to a meeting where an ambush was supposed to occur, only to alter course. A different tiny restaurant on Ocean Park Boulevard became the focal point of the discussion, and a lingering thought emerged: Perhaps Tony should die in a place like this. The reason behind the inclination remained unclear, leaving room for interpretation.
The question of authorship persists: is the creator’s vision the most important interpretation of the work, or is the audience’s reading equally valid? Those who want to believe that Tony lives on somewhere, perhaps unsettled but alive, are within their rights. The three dots at the end can be filled in many ways, and they carry weight as a metaphor for sudden, unpredictable fate.